


A Dream to Keep You Smiling

by zetsubonna



Series: Easy Living [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, M/M, Oral Sex, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Prostitution, Protective Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2014-11-25
Packaged: 2018-02-12 20:26:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2123529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zetsubonna/pseuds/zetsubonna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally requested by tumblr user je-ne-suis-pas-mignon; the working title of this was "Experiments in Buckyvoice," as it was an exercise in polishing the way I write pre-war Bucky. Major thanks to bluandorange for character-verification.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Kiss to Build A Dream On

"Open the door," Steve demanded, laughing into Bucky’s neck.

"You got a key, too," Bucky reminded him, fumbling in his pocket.

"I’m drunk," Steve said, clinging to Bucky with both spindly arms. "I’m drunk off my skinny ass."

"You’re not that drunk," Bucky said, obligingly holding him up with the hand not fishing for his keys. "You had what- two scotch n’ sodas?"

"Ain’t eaten all day," Steve said. "Damn, open the  _goddamn_  door, Barnes, Jesus.”

"S’matter with you?" Bucky said, laughing as he finally got the keys out and switched the fumbling to the lock.

"I gotta piss," Steve said, detangling himself and heading for the shared bathroom at the end of the hall. He stumbled a step before giggling and catching himself against the wall to stay upright. "Damn it, everything’s spinning."

"Go take your leak before you get it on your shoes," Bucky chided. "Jesus, I’ve never seen you drunk and still laughing."

"You’re a funny man," Steve observed, stumbling again but managing not to hit the floor. "Fix me a sandwich so I don’t get sick, okay?"

"Now who’s the wife around here?" Bucky muttered, hovering in the doorway as he watched Steve haul himself into the water closet. For once, the crack didn’t get him a middle finger, so he smiled, and when the light came on and the bathroom door clicked shut, he went inside the apartment.

He put on the coffee pot and took out the bread and the last of the smoked ham, shuffling the fixings together. He’d have to hit the store the next day so he could have a sandwich for his own lunch the coming Monday, but seeing Steve eat a whole sandwich would be worth it. The coffee pot was already percolating by the time Steve got back from the bathroom and wiped his damp hands on the towel hanging by the door.

"Best housewife ever," Steve teased, and Bucky laughed at him, even as he angled his cheek upward and filled it full of air, laughing again when Steve hit it with a sloppy, off-center kiss before he crashed into his chair at the table.

"You’d lay me out on the floor," Bucky said, shaking his head. "What’s got into you?"

"I don’t know," Steve sighed. "Mm, making coffee?"

"Gotta get us both hydrated," Bucky said, leaning back in his own chair. "Or come morning, we’ll both still be too hung over for Mass."

"Can’t disappoint your ma," Steve agreed.

The silence between them had always been comfortable, and Bucky took in the way Steve was running both hands through his hair, how the pomade in it was leaving it all fucked up, and how the grin on his face was somehow a fixture. Usually, drinking made Steve mean, hurt his stomach and sure as shit didn’t help his attitude, but tonight’s combo of the Dodgers winning in extra innings, a week behind and a week to go of guaranteed work, and enough cash to spare for groceries  _and_  baseball tickets  _and_  a night on the town with just the two of them, well. Steve was in a damn good mood, and that smile always made Bucky’s own light up like a Christmas tree.

Bucky leaned back from the table and flicked on the radio as Steve eyeballed his sandwich before starting to eat.

"Oh, hey," Bucky said, glancing at the radio. "That’s that Rogers n’ Hammerstein thing, ain’t it? They still ain’t found anybody who can sing it worth a damn."

"Mm," Steve grunted, smiling around the sandwich as the coffee pot finally burbled to the point where Bucky got out of his chair again. "You should sing it."

"Yeah right," Bucky said, shoulders shaking with a laugh. "Punk."

"You sing all right," Steve assured him, taking another bite out of his sandwich.

"Now I know you’re drunk," Bucky accused. "I can’t carry a tune in a bucket, you said."

"M’a liar," Steve said, swallowing. "You makin’ coffee or decoratin’ the place?"

"Nag, nag, nag, ever since the baby came," Bucky muttered, pushing his chair back and shoving at Steve’s head as he moved toward the kitchenette. "You sing prettier than I do, leastwise in the choir."

"Do not," Steve grunted, digging back into his sandwich.

"Do most things prettier than me," Bucky taunted. "Except eat. You eat like a horse."

Steve swallowed long enough to poke his tongue out and roll his eyes.

Bucky made the two cups of sludgy chicory coffee and put Steve’s down by his elbow before draping himself over Steve’s back. “Your stomach all right?” he asked, soft and low.

Steve made a low, pleasant noise, leaning his head back against Bucky’s shoulder. He smelled like sweat and outside, the ball park, the train, laundry soap. Bucky knew the smell of Steve at least as well as the smell of Becky, Ricky, Jack. Himself.

"Don’t eat too fast," he admonished, hugging him lightly, and was set to pull away when Steve swallowed again and spoke.

"You’re awful handsy when you’re drinking, Barnes," Steve noted, turning and giving his cheek a dry kiss. "Give a fella ideas."

Bucky blushed. “M’fond of you, a’right? Let a fella be fond of you. Punk.”

Steve moved quick, real quick, a lot quicker than he had on the landing, and both his arms were around Bucky’s waist about as soon as the two of them were upright. “Fond of me, huh?”

"Steve," Bucky said, looking into those bright, mischievous blue eyes. "How drunk are you?"

"Not that drunk," Steve assured him, and his eyes looked focused. He wasn’t stumbling, anymore, either, just pressed right up against him, one slim hand fisted in the back of Bucky’s shirt. "How drunk are you?"

"Just enough to be happy," Bucky murmured, trying to pull his eyes off Steve’s mouth and failing. "What’re you doing, Rogers?"

"Hell if I know," Steve returned, pressing up on his toes. "Come on down here."

It was sloppy and warm, chicory coffee and the barest hint of ham on rye, and if it wasn’t the first time they’d kissed each other, it was the first time they’d done it as grown adults. Steve’s tongue was just as wicked in Bucky’s mouth as in a street fight, and by the time he’d figured out how his hands were moving, one was on Steve’s ass and the other was in his hair. Steve had him by the necktie and the back of his belt, and was pinning him to the partial wall that separated the kitchenette from the rest of the studio.

"Fuck," Bucky whispered.

"Nah," Steve retorted, smirking. "Ain’t that drunk."

"Ass," Bucky accused, his own mouth starting to curve in a smile.

"S’where your hand is," Steve confirmed. "You’re real eloquent, Irish."

"Oh my  _Christ,_ " Bucky laughed. "Shut  _up_.”

Laughing, Steve pushed back up on his toes, and this time there was tongue, and Bucky felt like everything was on fire and burning down. He hit the lightswitch and the lock without letting Steve’s tongue leave his mouth, and they sank to the floor in a tangle of limbs and roaming hands.

"You’re too damn tall," Steve muttered. "Gotta climb you like a tree."

"Do it," Bucky urged. "Wrap your legs ‘round me n’ _shimmy_ , you think I’m gonna complain?”

"Jerk," Steve accused, pulling Bucky into a hunch by his suspenders and thrusting his tongue into his mouth.

Bucky vaguely thought Steve had gotten better at kissing since the last time they’d tried it, and the idea of him practicing with anybody else made an irrational coil of jealousy spring up in his belly. He listened to it, though, and that was the only explanation he had for how they both ended up shirtless and straining against each other on the floor at the foot of his bed, across the whole apartment from where they started.

It was Steve, Bucky remembered, Steve and not him, who went for their belts first. Steve whose deft fingers made short work of the leather at Bucky’s waist, whipped it loose from Bucky’s trousers and dumped it with a quiet clatter on the floor. Steve’s fingers pulled the button free, Steve’s fingers yanked his pants down over his hips, Steve’s fingers curled around Bucky’s cock through his boxers and stroked it, nimble and steady and sure.

"Mother of God," Bucky moaned into Steve’s shoulder, and Steve headbutted Bucky’s.

"Hush," he warned. "You wanna get us both arrested?"

"Steve," Bucky hissed. "Steve, Steve, Steve-"

He meant to say something else, he meant to be sweet, but he was too busy being surprised and the admission that he’d wanted this since he’d known what wanting was warred with his usual need to talk himself through a fuck and cut off his eloquence somewhere low in his throat.

"Steve," he whispered, trying not to whine as Steve’s tongue lathed his Adam’s apple and Steve’s fingers pumped his cock better than he knew how to do it himself. "Steve, goddamn it-"

"Shut up," Steve told him, and cemented it by slamming his mouth over Bucky’s so hard Bucky’s head made contact with the wall under the window sill, and Bucky laughed into the kiss, which made Steve laugh, even as he squeezed Bucky’s cock.

"Where’s the fire?" Bucky asked against Steve’s mouth, and smirked himself when he managed to get his own hand on Steve’s cock through his trousers. "Come on, let me."

"Jerk," Steve muttered, his face flushed, eyes rolling back in his head, and Bucky fought Steve’s hand off his dick before he pulled Steve into his lap. He had his tongue in Steve’s mouth before he had a hand in his pants, and Steve moaned so soft and pretty it made Bucky’s whole body tingle.

He’d tried it, sure, once or twice when he was short of cash, of course he had, didn’t want to think how many times Steve had done it, not right now when he was feeling real romantic and wanted shit to be special. Special, because Steve was special, because Steve deserved to be special. Bucky only paused in kissing him long enough to lick his palm damp, which Steve watched with bleary eyes, and then he was stroking Steve off in his lap, kissing his mouth and his neck, watching his face as it went pink all the way down to his nipples. Steve was so pretty, even his  _dick_  was pretty, warm and smooth in Bucky’s hand, and Steve’s ass tightened on Bucky’s thigh when he started thrusting into it, his hand grabbing a handful of Bucky’s hair right at the base of his neck. _  
_

"Bucky," Steve panted, eyes open, and Bucky smiled at that. "Bucky. _Buck._ ”

"Just me," Bucky confirmed, teasing Steve’s foreskin with the pad of his thumb. "Come on, thatta boy. Didn’t think I was just gonna let you get me and not get you back, did you?"

Steve rolled his eyes, mouth open and gasping, and Bucky measured his breaths, measured the motions of his hips, the way his eyes stayed rolled and his tongue pulsed until it nearly hung out of his mouth, and he’d seen Steve sick, beat up, bleeding, vomiting and, once or twice, even  _crying_ , but he’d always looked like he was holding back, just a little bit.

Steve coming, though. Steve  _coming_  was Steve  _gone_. Out of his damned mind, and wasn’t that pretty?

Bucky said so.

"You go right on and lose it," he purred. "Lose your goddamn head, I got you. Come on, Rogers, let go, I’ve got you. Damn, that looks nice. You look so good. You’re so pretty when you come, goddamn, never seen nothin’ so pretty."

"Bucky," Steve whimpered. "Oh, Jesus, Buck-"

 _Warm_ , Buck thought. Warm, wet and messy, dribbling over his fingers and Steve’s kisses turned bitey and vicious.

"You  _jerk_ ,” Steve growled, shoving at Bucky’s hand as soon as his cock had stopped twitching. “ _Pretty_? I’ll  _pretty_  your damn face, you-“

Bucky pushed Steve back with one hand, then casually licked Steve’s come off the back of the other, effectively silencing him. Steve stared, his eyes wide, cheeks pink, as Bucky looked him dead in the eye and finished cleaning up with slow, deliberate swipes of his tongue.

"You were sayin’?" Bucky drawled, licking his lips.

Steve swallowed thickly, and Bucky felt kind of cocky for a minute. It didn’t last. Steve was quicker than a rattlesnake, and his own dick was practically screaming for how hard it was, so the kiss over Bucky’s heart and the next to the middle of his stomach wasn’t nearly warning enough before Steve’s smart mouth engulfed it to the base.

"Christ!" Bucky yelped.

 _Starving_  wasn’t the right word.  _Like it was his job_  didn’t cover the amount of enthusiasm. Steve was  _ravenous._  It wasn’t artful or sweet or subtle, it was just Steve’s hot, wet, voracious  _mouth_ , all undulating tongue and seamlessly open throat, with low, insistent noises vibrating all along his length and Steve’s soft, messy hair brushing against his stomach.

"Goddamn, baby," Bucky panted. "Goddamn. Holy- Holy goddamn, ease up,  _ease up_ , fuck, I’m gonna-“

"You’re a  _jerk_ ,” Steve hissed, digging his fingertips into Bucky’s thighs. “You’re a goddamn jerk. I wanted you so bad and-“

"And you’ve got me," Bucky answered, running his fingers through Steve’s hair. "You got me, so slow down before you swallow it, damn. M’kinda attached."

Steve drew in a deep breath as Bucky’s fingers kneaded at his scalp. He nuzzled into it. Bucky squirmed down from where he was sitting to give Steve room to work, to get his belly out of the way, and Steve pulled Bucky’s pants down a little farther and let those perfect fingers cup and stroke and caress his balls as he took him in again, slower this time, slower and sweeter, and Bucky watched him as he moved in the low light as it streamed in past the curtains.

"Steve," Bucky sighed, watching those cheeks hollow out, the thick lashes come to rest on those perfect, high cheekbones. "Oh, Steve. Damn, that’s-"

_Pretty, oh baby, you’re so pretty, you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, oh, Steve, Stevie-_

"That’s good, that’s so good, that’s real nice, mm."

Bucky’s brows knit together and he smiled as he closed his eyes, ticking his hips upward when Steve pulled on them. He wasn’t even surprised when Steve adjusted his petting fingers into a fist at the back of his head.

"Move your hips," Steve told him, speaking against the head of his dick, full lips rubbing against it, against his retracted foreskin, fingers cupping his balls, kneading his thighs. "Move your hips, Buck, put it in my throat."

"Okay," Bucky murmured dreamily. "Okay, Steve. Whatever you want."

From the hum and the way he smirked, Bucky could tell Steve liked that. His tongue was flat and warm and wet and perfect as it dragged all the way across the head of Bucky’s dick, the tongue stopping to flicker against his frenulum before Steve swallowed him again.

"Goddamn, Steve," Bucky sighed.. "Oh, Mary n’Joseph, you’re amazing. You’re so goddamn good. Never in my life, goddamn."

He thought Steve was gagging, and started to slow down, but got his hip smacked and realized that no, he wasn’t gagging, he was  _gulping_ , swallowing everything that didn’t fit, pumping his tongue against the bottom of Bucky’s dick and rippling his throat open and closed around the head, and some vague idea for a joke about how his other medium besides illustration was obviously fellatio crossed his mind but no, no, he wasn’t going to make jokes right this minute, he had to know his audience and right now Steve was not amused, he was focused, he was intent, and that was flattering as all Hell.

"You want it?" Bucky asked, and Steve hummed emphatically. "You want it? ‘Cause m’close, Steve, m’so close, I’m gonna-"

"Gimme," Steve commanded, before taking him all the way down again, and Bucky could still hear the rasping command in his ears when he came a minute later.

_Gimme. Gimme. Gimme._

"Fuck, you’re so  _good_ ,” Bucky whined, dragging Steve up and kissing him, tasting himself in Steve’s mouth. “How are you so good? You ain’t fair.”

Steve, dizzy and looking more drunk than before, stared at him, his lips swollen, eyes bleary. “The Hell are you talkin’ about?”

"Goddamn it, Rogers," Bucky huffed, kissing him again, and again, until Steve’s brow unfurrowed and he was laughing. "M’tired now. You fuckin’  _vampire_.”

"Yeah, well," Steve retorted weakly, ducking toward his shoulder when Bucky pulled him up as he got to his feet, then carried him to his own bed and dropped him on the springless mattress. _  
_

"Shove over," Bucky ordered. Steve did, ducking his head and smiling still, especially when Bucky flung an arm around his waist. "You’re such a goddamn brat."

"Me?" Steve shoved at his shoulder. "Me. I’m a brat."

"You’re a goddamned menace, is what you are," Bucky said, kissing his temple. "Mouth like that and all you use it for is startin’ fights. I can’t believe you."

Steve laughed in surprise, falling quiet when Bucky pulled his face into his neck. “You sleepin’ with me?”

"Damn right I am," Bucky said, his own arms around Steve’s waist, nose in his hair. "Deal with it."

"All right," Steve murmured softly, arms folded over his own chest. "All right, Buck."

"Mother of God," Bucky yawned. "You’re something else. Good _night_.”


	2. A Kiss to Build A Dream On

Bucky woke up next to Steve, and that was only new because it wasn’t the season to have to keep him warm and he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

 _Well_ , Bucky reflected _, not just that._

Steve’s left shoulder had a very light bruise in the shape of Bucky’s mouth. His hair was mussed up like a scarecrow from Bucky’s fingers running through it and burrowing into the pillow. He was still burrowing, and Bucky kept very still as he watched him in the faint light of dawn creeping through the window. It was Sunday, and his mother probably expected them to make an appearance at Mass, but they might go in the evening, maybe.

 _Maybe_. If they had enough sinning for the day. Bucky smiled, a slow, lazy curve coming across his lips as his fingers lightly tapped their way up Steve’s vertebrae, minding the curve, the spots where he put the heat pad. Steve had freckles on his back, and the back of his neck, not a whole lot, he sunburned too easy and it wasn’t that warm out yet. Steve curled in tighter to himself, making a low, almost growling sound, and Bucky let his fingertips find a spot he’d never dared touch before, the point of one bony hip where it jutted over the top of Steve’s pajama pants.

Steve flinched, and Bucky had expected that. He wasn’t a morning person, his bed was his place of respite, he never liked getting out of it, never had, but Bucky didn’t want him getting up just yet anyway.

Steve’s flinch turned into a roll, and his back went against the wall. He looked at Bucky from underneath his bangs, and Bucky could see the blush creeping around from the back of his neck as he ducked his chin and scowled. “Goddamn it.”

"Good morning," Bucky corrected him, relaxed and comfortable, and had Steve been any bigger they’d have been pressed together in his small bed, but he wasn’t, so they weren’t. "Mm. Whadya think? Breakfast, bathroom or back to what we were doin’?"

The smile spread out a little more, and Bucky’d never let himself really think Steve looked at his mouth like that, but he couldn’t stop seeing it now.

"That was a bad idea," Steve said, scrubbing his palm across his mouth and watching Bucky warily, like he wanted to turn this into a fight.

"You’re wrong," Bucky said, putting his hand under his cheek against the pillow. "You don’t know how wrong you are."

"We shouldn’t have- Look, we can pretend it didn’t happen, right? Just be- just be us, it doesn’t have to get-"

Bucky sighed and reached out to touch another mark he’d left, a set of fingerprints on Steve’s bicep, he hadn’t meant to, but Steve bruised like a peach. His lips were still swollen, and Bucky shifted his hips at the realization.

"No take backs, Rogers," he murmured, narrowing his eyes as he measured how his fingertips matched up with the prints and letting his shoulders shake with silent laughter, which threw Steve off a little, and he used the unbalancing to slide his arm around Steve’s back and pull him closer, bury his face in Steve’s neck.

Steve went stiff as a board, holding his breath and crumpling up his whole face. “Don’t,” he said. “Just don’t. This ain’t what you want, it ain’t right, don’t act like it’s fine.”

"Knew you’d say that," Bucky said, kissing him, sucking lightly on the pale skin, his arms keeping Steve close. "When you gonna get to the part where you start telling me what I want?"

He fell still again, and Bucky pulled on him until they fit together better. They didn’t usually tangle up like this, looking at each other, it wasn’t warm enough. He ran his tongue over Steve’s jaw, pressing their chests together, keeping his hands respectful for the moment because Steve was strung up tighter than a nun’s underpants.

"You were so good," Bucky told him, caressing his back, making sure not to let his fingers linger on Steve’s crooked spine, although he wanted to, wanted to memorize every bump and every tender place with his hands. "I’ve never been treated so good in my whole life."

"Christ’s sake," Steve said, rolling his eyes and squirming a little, not trying to get free, not really, but putting his flat palms on Bucky’s chest just the same, like he intended to push, but the pressure never came. "You don’t want me, Buck. I’m nothing but trouble."

"Known that since grade school," Bucky reminded him. "Gettin’ in fist fights, getting arrested, shooting your big mouth off all the time. I’ve done all right with trouble so far."

He pulled a little and leaned forward, kissing Steve’s mouth. It was foul, of course, his acid was bad at night and the last things he’d had in it before he slept were Bucky’s cock and his tongue, in that order. Bucky pushed his tongue past Steve’s swollen lips and into his mouth, trying to slide his knee between Steve’s thighs, and Steve cringed back from him.

"Don’t kiss me like that," he said. "It’s five in the morning, I taste like-"

"Like sleepin’, and me, and sleepin’ with me," Bucky interrupted, caressing Steve’s back. "I can eat you for breakfast, then maybe some eggs."

"Jesus Christ," Steve exclaimed, low and husky with sleep and irritation, blinking at him. "Where did you learn to talk like that?"

"If it bothers you, I can talk about somethin’ else," Bucky offered. He let his hand dip down and squeeze Steve’s narrow ass gently as he licked at his mouth. "I can talk about how pretty your eyes are, or how much I want you, or I can just tell you I ain’t goin’ nowhere and neither are you."

The tension seemed to drain out of Steve slowly, like Bucky was kneading it out of his tired muscles, and Steve did that for Bucky if his shoulders hurt after work, so he started, rubbing his fingers into all the places he’d ever glimpsed and wanted to touch, kissing Steve’s lips, his cheeks, his eyes, his nose. Steve grumbled and squirmed, but he squirmed  _into_  it, he soaked it up like a dry sponge.

He realized what he was doing just as Bucky was trying to get him to roll on top of him, and balked, falling down by his side again.

"The Hell are we doing?" Steve panted, looking at Bucky with that crease in his forehead that meant he was ready to curl up his fists, so Bucky took his fists and curled his own hands around them instead, kissing the furrow between his brows and laughing softly.

"What we started yesterday," Bucky said again, slower, exaggerated for all it was quiet. "Woke up to this? Wanted more of it. Come on, Steve. Kiss me."

Steve’s kiss was even more desperate than it had been the night before, his teeth caught lips and tongue and clicked into Bucky’s, and Bucky felt like, if he’d have been standing, he’d have fallen to his knees.

"Goddamn," he sighed. "Goddamn, Stevie. Where’d you learn to kiss like that?"

"Where you think?" Steve muttered, scowling, pressing his forehead to Bucky’s. "Same place I learned everything else."

"Queer bars?" Bucky asked, and Steve rolled his eyes, which meant yes. He hummed softly, tapping his fingers against the small of Steve’s back and sucking on his lower lip, which took about six ounces of the fight out of him. "Okay."

Steve frowned curiously, nipping at Bucky’s mouth. “That’s it? Just ‘okay’?”

"Ain’t like I expect you to sit home nights when I’m out with dames," Bucky murmured philosophically, then made his own thoughtful face, studying Steve’s expression. "Any of the rent come from that?"

"I ain’t sayin’ nothin’," Steve informed him, his eyes flashing defiantly. "I worked for it, that’s all you need to know."

"It ain’t the sex or the money that bothers me," Bucky murmured, tightening his grip a little. "It ain’t  _smart_ , that’s what I don’t like. Some of those sailors and stevedores are pretty rough trade.”

Steve tilted his head back to look at Bucky askance, but he didn’t argue, and Bucky took the plunge, sliding his hands over Steve’s tight little ass, grabbing his thighs and pulling him solidly against his chest.

"How about I make you a deal," Bucky offered, drinking in the flush of Steve’s face and the slow gape of his jaw. "If you need a guy to tumble, you can always get some at home. And if you’re short of rent, you tell me, and  _I’ll_  work it out. But-“

Bucky interrupted himself before Steve could, because he saw the tightness in Steve’s jaw that meant he was on the verge of an eruption. He smiled as he spoke, relaxed and easy, rippling his fingers up and down the flat planes of Steve’s back. 

"I  _ain’t_  a john. I ain’t never paid for it and I never would. You don’t want to, we don’t, that simple. It’s all up to you. That’s the only way I’d ever want it.”

"Christ," Steve grunted, squirming, and Bucky could feel him half-hard against Bucky’s stomach. "Christ, what the Hell. Why are you grabbin’ me like that?"

"Because I want to," Bucky murmured back. "Because I want  _you_ , and you’re getting off on it. Look at you.”

He released Steve’s thighs when Steve was settled comfortably on top of him, lifting his hand to touch every hickey, every scratch, every fingerprint bruise and all the scars and scrapes he’d never touched. He checked the places Steve’s skin might be tender, between his ribs, his battered knuckles, the divots of his hips, the soft dip of his navel, along his legs, taking note of the soft, downy hair on his thighs.

"You’re fucking gorgeous, you know that," Bucky said, forceful and low, and Steve looked at him askance again, like he’d just said the moon was made of cheese and they were sending mice up to mine it. "You are," he insisted, tugging Steve up to suck at his throat, which prompted another hesitating stiffness and then, as Bucky licked from one mole and freckle to the next all across his neck and shoulders, Steve started to loosen up.

"Ain’t a part of you I don’t want in my mouth," he continued, grinning into Steve’s shoulder when he huffed softly. "What?"

"Do you ever shut up?"

"No," Bucky said, raising his eyebrows. "I don’t. I can’t help it, my mouth starts flapping once I get bothered and don’t quit until I pass out. And you, Steve Rogers," he said, grinning, sitting up slowly so Steve’s ass came to rest on his mostly hard cock. "Got me pretty bothered over here."

"Oh, Jesus," Steve whispered, clutching at Bucky’s shoulders and rolling his hips into Bucky’s stomach without hesitation, his eyes rolling and fluttering closed for a moment. "You wanna?"

"Mm, God, Steve," Bucky leaned back to watch him, his shoulders scraped with blunt nails,  " _Yeah_. Mm hm hm.” He nibbled Steve's mouth, sucking his lower lip and then murmuring huskily, "You’re all pink and your mouth’s wet and open and you look like you’re about halfway to drunk.”

"Shut up," Steve said, but leaned up to kiss his throat and ground his ass into Bucky’s lap. He bit his lip and shook his head, trying to clear it. "You mean it?" he asked, low and insistent. "This ain’t- Look, I’ve done this before, okay, it ain’t-"

"It’s special," Bucky interrupted, "Because it’s  _me_. You’re the worst goddamn liar in the world, I don’t believe any fuckin’ thing you say. Let’s get you out of those pants.”

"Think you’re special, huh?" Steve asked, sliding off Bucky towards the patch of floor between their two twin beds. "With your Cary Grant hair. Lots of stuff’s special, Buck. Discount bin at the grocery’s a special, ain’t it?"

Bucky grinned, sitting up and tugging Steve back to him by one skinny wrist, shutting up a protest by sucking on a nipple. “I’m more a blue plate special,” Bucky said, watching his face intently to see how it went over. “Seein’ as how you wasted no time-“

"Don’t you even!" Steve burst out laughing, swatting at him with both hands. "How do you get girls with your corny lines?"

"You smile like General Electric," Bucky followed up, nuzzling Steve’s narrow chest. "Light up the whole damn room."

"You stupid jerk," Steve said, shaking with laughter and smacking his shoulders again. "You wanna screw or you wanna put on a comedy show? Christ, Barnes."

"Well, get your britches off, Rogers," Bucky said, dropping back to the bed and starting to wiggle out of his own, knowing stripping like he was about to race down the beach to go swimming would make Steve feel easier than slowly peeling out of their clothes like they were on a goddamn honeymoon or something. "Mm. We actually screwing, or we foolin’ around?"

Steve considered, and then drew in a deep breath, right in the middle of unbuttoning his pants, and buttoned them right back on. “Screwing,” he decided. Bucky was pretty sure he’d decided it by looking at Bucky naked and waiting for him with a grin in his own bed, but that was all according to what he wanted, so it was fine. “Back in- mm. Maybe ten minutes.”

"Don’t take too long," Bucky said. "Your breakfast is getting cold."

"What does that even-" Steve paused, and then smacked himself in the forehead. "You oughtta be in pictures," he said, bitingly sarcastic. "You’re a riot a minute."

"Get  _clean_  so you can get back in this  _bed_ ,” Bucky said, slow and exaggerated, and then he purred, wiggling his hips and his eyebrows suggestively as he punched Steve’s pillow up under his head. “I got  _plans_. I got  _ideas_.”

"You got a hard on and a big mouth," Steve interrupted, scooping up his towel and heading for the door.

"Only one of which you’ll be getting if you take ten seconds more than you gotta," Bucky shot back, making sure that when Steve flicked his eyes over to give Bucky the finger, he saw Bucky’s hand lazily stroking own own cock. It gave Steve all the incentive he needed to scoot.

The first thing Steve did when he got back from the shared bathroom at the end of the hall was scrape his eyes over Bucky’s entire body, his lips pursed, head tilted slightly to one side.

"Still here," Bucky confirmed, patting the side of the bed. "Lock up and come on over."

Steve locked the door, pulling the chain, too, and padded over, barefoot and freckled and dotted with water. “Thought about this long?” he said, flat and low.

"Get your dukes down," Bucky admonished. "Bout as long as you, I’m sure. Gimme a kiss. Did you brush?"

"Rinsed," Steve said, shrugging, but, when he leaned down and Bucky came up, he tasted much better. Bucky had retrieved one of a hundred peppermints he’d stashed around the apartment for when he wanted them, and he tasted like it, sweet and cool and oddly familiar, for all Steve only had last night and this morning to go on.

"Sunday morning," Bucky murmured hungrily into his mouth, "We oughtta be going to Mass."

"What’s it gonna be this time?" Steve asked, finally crawling up into the bed and stretching out beside him, sliding his arm around Bucky’s waist like he owned it, like he belonged there, and Bucky liked that. "Something about Heaven, I’m guessing."

"We’re gonna have to convert," Bucky said solemnly. "I’m gonna have you speakin’ in tongues and yelling for Jesus."

Steve groaned, and Bucky laughed, and Steve was laughing by the time Bucky’s arms were around him, the one underneath cupped against his thigh right on the barely pronounced curve of his ass, the right brushing through Steve’s damp hair, cupping his face, the side of his neck, steering him just a little bit for kisses, pressing their chests together, and their heights didn’t differ as much when they were laid out like this.

"What do you like?" Bucky asked, low and sweet against his mouth, and Steve smiled at him, nose scrunching in surprise.

"What, screw-wise? You want me to say? You don’t just wanna figure it out as we go?"

"I know what I wanna do," Bucky said, nuzzling their noses together, "I know what dames like, and I know what you’ve liked so far. That’s what I’m goin’ on, so if you like something and I ain’t doing it-"

Steve hushed him with a kiss. “I think you’ll do okay,” he said, kissing him again, deeper, and then a third time, increasingly wet and with more inviting flickers of his tongue, until he suddenly laughed into Bucky’s mouth. “Damn, I thought of a comeback.”

"Staircase wit?" Bucky asked, giving him one of the big hugs he knew Steve melted into, with the added bonus of them being naked and sliding against each other. "Let’s hear it."

"If you want me to do any snake handling, you’re gonna have to lay off the puns," Steve said, deadpan, but when Bucky started giggling into his shoulder, he lost it, and pretty soon they were both laughing so hard they were shaking.

Bucky started kissing Steve again while they were still laughing, rocking his hips into Steve’s thigh. He was still half-hard and warm, and the kisses were slow, drawn out, lingering things. Their tongues met in slow, hot slides, they flirted with their teeth, and Bucky figured out that Steve favored his right side when he was kissing, chalking it up to his back.

"Christ, I want you," he whispered against Steve’s mouth with his eyes closed.

"Bucky," Steve whispered back, more sigh than protest, and Bucky wanted to hear affection in it, so he chose to, squeezing him closer, tighter, until he could feel Steve’s nipples and his breathing and his heart and- " _Bucky_.” It was a whisper, aching and soft, and it felt like somebody had poured kerosene into his body and lit him up from the inside.

"Too tight?" he asked, nuzzling Steve’s nose again. He was adorable up close, freckles sneaking around his face, those full, pouty lips, his pronounced Irish nose, and, when Bucky let himself look, intense, vivid blue eyes that took his breath away.

"No," Steve said, licking his own lips. "Ain’t made of glass, you know."

His neck was long and slender and invited kisses, so Bucky took the invitation, pausing to suck, but never so heavily it made marks. Mostly, he trapped the skin with his lips and swirled across it with his tongue, and Steve panted quietly into his ear and ground against him, so he knew he was on the right track. He kept Steve pressed tight against him until he felt a familiar little squirm that wasn’t related to kissing or heavy breathing.

"Need to move," he stated. Steve hummed his agreement, pushing himself loose, and then settled into the mattress on his back. He scrunched up his shoulders when he smiled at Bucky, jerking his head in the opposite direction, so Bucky slid on top of him, settling between his thighs and starting to work his way down Steve’s chest with his lips.

"You’re so-" he muffled the word in Steve’s skin, blushing because he couldn’t say the one he wanted to say. He kissed and brushed his lips against Steve’s ribs, and Steve sighed, running his fingers through Bucky’s hair.

"Go on," Steve muttered. "Let’s hear it."

"Good-lookin’," Bucky said, having had a moment to come up with something else, he managed to make it sound right, or thought he had until Steve snorted.

"I ain’t," he said. "And that ain’t what you were gonna say."

Bucky closed his eyes, holding his breath for a moment, and then climbed up Steve’s body, curling his hand around Steve’s cock abruptly and giving it a light squeeze that made Steve’s eyes cross as he muffled his mouth with both hands.

"Bucky!" Steve hissed, fair skin going pink, and Bucky kissed him.

"Christ," Bucky mumbled against his mouth. "You’re you, and you’re with me."

Steve nodded, dumbstruck and dizzy.

"I want you so bad it’s killin’ me." Bucky murmured, peppering his face with kisses.

"Bucky," Steve gasped urgently, and Bucky moved his hand, pumping gently. "Bucky, Buck- It’s- Ooh, that’s- damn, that’s nice."

"I talk, when I get bothered," Bucky went on, keeping his grip steady as he watched Steve twitch his hips helplessly toward it. "You make me so goddamn hot, I’m gonna talk at you, I know it, but I’m nervous it’s gonna put you off me."

"Don’t say nothin’ shitty," Steve warned, shaking his head to try and clear it, but it wasn’t happening and he went back to stroking his shaking hands up and down Bucky’s sides while Bucky worked his cock, just shy of jerking him off, his eyes mostly closed.

"I want you so bad," Bucky went on, grinding his cock against Steve’s thigh and making him gasp again. "I want  _you_ , Steve. So goddamn bad.” _  
_

"Jesus," Steve hissed, closing his eyes. "Christ, _Bucky_ -“

"Stevie," Bucky kissed him, long and deep and thorough. "Stevie, baby. Baby, baby, baby. God  _damn_. You’re gonna come, right? I wanna see it. You looked so sweet when you came for me last night, I wanna see you come again. Come on, baby. Atta boy.”

He was pink all over and his mouth was open again, sweet, red, and wet, his lips kiss bitten, swollen, warm and soft. His tongue was just shy of lolling out of his mouth when he started to go off. He clenched his hands into fists and braced them against Bucky’s shoulders as he thrust up into his hand, opening his eyes to stare right into Bucky’s, ferocious with desire, and then they slipped back and Steve was coming, all over his own stomach and Bucky’s, and Bucky watched in fascination as he fell apart.

When Steve came back to his senses, the first thing he did was punch Bucky in the shoulder. “I ain’t been  _Stevie_  since third grade,” he admonished. “N’ _baby_? Really, Buck?”

Bucky shrugged. “You start fights with yours, I talk sweet with mine.”

Steve considered this for a long, quiet moment, and then shrugged, moving his thigh against Bucky’s cock. “You gonna do me or what?”

Bucky stared at him, and then dropped his face, pressing his forehead to Steve’s and laughing. “You are the sassiest little piece of shit jerk,” he said.

"Thought I was gonna be any different once you started kissing on me?" Steve asked, shifting his jaw to one side and looking down his nose at him. "Still me, just naked."

"Christ," Bucky said, shaking his head, stealing another kiss just because he’d mentioned it, and because Steve’s mouth was just so much of  _Steve_ , he couldn’t want one without wanting the other. When he opened his eyes, Steve was squinting at him, his eyes almost crossed, and he reached up and ran his fingers through Bucky’s hair.

"You ain’t done this before," he said, just a little bit softer, and Bucky shrugged. Steve smirked a little, moving both his hands up and curling them around Bucky’s waist. "It’s different."

"Yeah?" Bucky asked, settling himself just a little more, keeping most of his weight on his knees but taking some of it off his hand. His stomach felt warm against Steve’s. "Good thing you’re so damn bossy, then."

Steve’s smirk got a little tighter, and Bucky knew he was in for it. “Shit,” Bucky said, tilting his head back toward his own shoulder and looking at Steve from the new angle. “I’ve seen that face before. That grin gets you arrested.”

"Well, we  _are_  doing some pretty illegal shit right now,” Steve returned. He shifted his shoulders and closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath. “Get my box out from under the bed. Don’t bring it up here, just get it out.”

Bucky leaned over the edge, noting that Steve’s bed, unlike his, didn’t squeak, and trying not to shiver when Steve’s fingers started stroking up and down his ribs. He flipped the box open and peered down into the mess of tubes, brushes and pencils. “What am I-” He stopped, gave a little chuckle, and took out the Vaseline, moving back up and finding Steve still smirking, though now his eyes were half-closed and his chin jutted out. “You sneak. You said it was for painting.”

"It is," Steve said, shrugging. "Keeps paint from sticking. Also good for lipsticked collars and shoe shine. We’ve got two jars, that one’s just closer."

"The Hell am I gonna do with you?" Bucky said, and Steve looked pointedly at the jar, then rolled his eyes, and Bucky darted down to kiss him, pushing his tongue into Steve’s mouth and tasting him, slow and deep, making soft, pleasant noises until Steve thumped Bucky’s side with the heel of his hand.

"Hurry up," he mumbled, and they were looking at each other through their eyelashes, and then Bucky sat slowly back, and took in a good, long look at Steve, laid out on the bed, his legs apart for Bucky’s knees, his blush mostly faded, stomach slightly concave and perfectly smooth, his hand coming up to push his hair back off his forehead as he watched Bucky look at him, and then he snorted. "I’ll draw you a goddamn picture. Move it."

"I’ll hold you to that," Bucky said, twisting the jar open, peering into it and slicking his first two fingers.

"Three," Steve muttered. Bucky blinked at him, and Steve shrugged. Bucky slicked the third finger, screwing the cap on and letting it roll down toward the depression they were making in the mattress. Steve considered for a moment, and then waved Bucky closer, kissing him when he was close enough and speaking against his lips. Steve cupped the back of his neck, keeping his voice low. "Get one of my knees up over your elbow, so you can see what you’re doing, and go slower than you would with a dame, okay?"

"Jesus Christ," Bucky said, shivering, kissing Steve before he could frown. "Just- that was the hottest thing-" he shook his head, cutting himself off.

He kissed Steve again lingering before he sat back and moved to do what Steve said, taking the time to stroke his stomach and soft, downy inner thighs and sucking on his own lower lip as he watched his index finger, circling firm and slow, holding his breath when Steve hissed softly, his hand moving up and grabbing the top of his pillow as his chest arched upward. That made Bucky’s cock twitch, almost as much as the impossible tightness he felt when he started to push inside.

"Bucky," Steve had, Bucky noted, amazing control of his voice and volume, he was so quiet, but tremulous to the point of being piercing, it stabbed him in the base of his spine and made his stomach flip. "Bucky, Bucky, Bucky- Jesus, Jesus  _Christ_ , just- unh-” He swallowed and exhaled in a rush. “Just- just like that, just keep- doing that, Christ, tw- twi- twist it, get it-  _slick_ -“

There was just enough give for Bucky to hold his breath, trying not to imagine what it would be like to try it  _right now_ , knowing that wouldn’t work, it’d be too rough, it would hurt. He was so busy staring he didn’t notice Steve was gesturing at him until Steve snarled.

"God, Jesus, pay  _attention_ , Bu- Bucky, you gotta-” His eyes were watering again and his mouth wouldn’t close. “Gi- gimme another one,  _shit-_ ”

The second finger got him a string of Steve panting his name, so fast and so breathless he was tempted to stop, but when he paused, Steve’s eyes snapped back into focus and he glared at him. “Don’t  _stop_ , are you goddamn  _stupid_?”

"Okay," Bucky said, blushing a little and starting to twist his fingers again, and the slight angling of his wrist was all it took to put Steve back down, shivering so much Bucky could  _feel_  it on his  _hand_ , and he moaned softly. “God in Heaven. I ain’t gonna make it two minutes.”

"See if I let you do it again, if you don’t," Steve croaked, shifting his hips. "Third one. Aim up, c’mon."

Bucky closed his eyes for a moment after watching the three fingers slide into him, holding still and holding his breath, and then he opened them, watching Steve’s face as he searched, and when he found Steve’s prostate, Steve’s eyes rolling and going damp, his blush not only back, but seeping down to his nipples as fast as it could go, lighting him up pink and perfect.

"Bucky," Steve was gasping again. "Bucky, Bucky, Bucky- T-t-talk to me, B-Bucky,  _now_ -“

"Oh, baby," Bucky sighed, shaking his head. "You’re fucking  _beautiful_. Christ, you’re tight and hot and I want you so bad. How m’I doin’, Stevie? Like that? Right there? Jesus, look at you. Fuck, baby boy, never seen anything so pretty. Move your hips, Stevie, show me what you want.”

Steve tugged at the pillow, balling his hand up into a fist and squeezing until his knuckles went white. “Bucky, Bucky, Bucky, Bucky, Oh, God, yeah- yeah-  _yes_ \- Bucky!”

He was so quiet, Bucky marveled, not even speaking volume, but not whispering either, just rumbling, low and relentless, throaty and shaking, starting to tick his hips up toward Bucky’s fingers just before Bucky slowly, carefully twisted them and Steve squeezed himself, wrapping his arms around his own narrow chest.

"You just let me know when you’re ready, Stevie," Bucky forced the words out of his lips. "Mm. Seein’ you like this- you’re something else. You really are. Christ, you’re gorgeous, baby."

Steve gave him a dizzy smile, then closed his eyes and Bucky felt him  _clench._  He could scarcely move his fingers, Steve was so tight, and Bucky’s cock ached. “You doin’ that on purpose?” he growled.

"Mmhm," Steve managed, licking his lips. "Wanna come up and get some?"

"Do you want  _me_  to break you in half?” Bucky asked, shoving his knee up to widen his thighs and leaning up, though he kept his fingers inside of Steve’s body as long as he could. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Stevie.”

"Worse ways to go," Steve mumbled, squirming and pouting when Bucky’s fingers slipped out of him, pressing his lips together to mask a grin when he put his hands on Bucky’s shoulders. "Last chance to change your mind."

"After  _that_?” Bucky situated himself and grabbed his cock, steadying himself and lining up, propped up just enough to keep his weight off Steve’s chest. “Nah, no takebacks. You’re getting it.”

"Good," Steve murmured, watching Bucky’s face through his lashes as he started to push. "Took you long enough."

Bucky didn’t think he’d ever had a girl look directly into his eyes when he’d done her, and when Steve did it, it was wild, it made his chest ache and his breath stop, he couldn’t breathe again until he’d worked the whole head of his cock into him and Steve was squeezing down on his shoulders and breathing slow and deep.

"Howzzat?" Steve managed. "Bucky?"

Bucky drew in a deep, shaky breath, kissing him in lieu of a response, and then Steve, because he was a greedy little shit with no patience, started squirming and trying to wrap his legs around Bucky’s hips, and Bucky smacked his ass.

"Don’t fucking  _do_  that,” Steve growled, pounding a fist into his shoulder.

"Don’t fucking  _rush_  me,” Bucky hissed. “Christ. Give me a minute.”

Steve huffed, but went still, rubbing his thumbs into Bucky’s shoulders and letting him settle. When Bucky could focus his eyes, he was looking up at him, softer than he ever had, smiling and sweet, and the indirect sun from the window was hitting the bed at just the right angle to let him see everything without anybody else seeing anything.

"Okay," he exhaled. "Okay, maybe I can move. Don’t."

Steve rolled his eyes and ran his fingers through Bucky’s hair. “That good?”

"You got no goddamn idea, do you?" Bucky retorted, pushing deeper until he could feel the spot he’d found earlier with his cock, and Steve shut up, finally. His expression kept trying to go slack, his jaw loose, his eyes unfocused, but his lips were fighting it because he was still trying to smile.

"There you go, baby," Bucky whispered, barely moving, just enough to  keep that dumbstruck look on Steve’s face. "Atta boy. That’s my baby. Feel so good, Stevie. Ain’t that nice? Fit each other just right, don’t we?"

Steve’s breath caught and came in rushes, his blushing lighting up all over again, one hand moving from Bucky’s shoulder to the back of his neck. “C’mon,” he urged. “C’mon. Gimme.”

"All of it?" Bucky asked, leaning down and breathing against his mouth. "You sure?"

“ _Gimme_  it, Bucky,” Steve insisted, pushing his chin up and giving him a brushing kiss. “Christ.  _Bucky_.”

Steve was looking at him again, eyes heavy-lidded with want but  _open_ , half-focused but  _locked_ , and something turned over and clicked in his head. Bucky moaned, pushing until every inch of his cock was buried in him, licking into Steve’s mouth when his jaw went slack again.

"Baby," he said, and then, "Baby, baby, baby. Steve, Stevie, my baby boy. You’re so good. You’re so goddamn  _good_.” He wove his fingers into Steve’s hair and looked into his eyes, not thrusting as much as rocking his hips, grinding deep, and if Steve had looked like he was losing it when he was coming, he was past it now. He was  _gone_. Steve was somewhere out by Saturn, and Bucky had  _put_  him there. “Oh, Stevie. Goddamn, you’re perfect. You’re the best I ever had.”

Steve laughed, and it melted into a moan, rolling his hips up. “You talk too much,” he mumbled, trying to wrap his arms around Bucky’s chest and only managing to get his hands past his ribs. He spread them across Bucky’s back anyhow, pulling him close. “Givin’ me a toothache.”

Bucky sighed, because Steve was still a jerk, and started to rock harder, nipping Steve’s lip when he was quiet again. Steve’s mattress was cotton and the bedframe was wood, so the only sounds were their bodies, colliding skin and heavy breathing, and then Bucky heard himself start to grunt, a low rattle in the back of his throat, and Steve licked his lips, and he knew it was coming but it still made his eyes roll back when Steve started moving in earnest, clenching and rotating his hips and digging his blunt nails into Bucky’s back. _  
_

"Don’t," Bucky tried, and Steve countered with, "I _want_  it,” and Bucky shook his head. Steve’s thighs squeezed his hips and Bucky whined.

"Baby, please, I ain’t ready."

"You’re close," Steve insisted, squirming more intently. "You’re so close you’re shaking. Gimme it, Buck. I want it." _  
_

"Stevie," Bucky tried again, and Steve cut him off with a kiss.

"Ain’t like you ain’t gonna get to do it again," he said, smirking into Bucky’s mouth. "Whenever I feel like it. Now  _gimme_ , before my hips get tired, you big ox.”

"And again, and again, until you gotta beat me off you with a stick," Bucky grumbled, but he sped up, flinging Steve back out into space. "Jesus, you feel good."

"I do," Steve agreed dreamily, and Bucky laughed, harsh and stuttering, swallowing and squeezing his eyes shut when he came, still moving until he couldn’t anymore without hissing in pain and he fell still, drawing Steve into long, slow, drawn out kisses.

"You weigh a billion pounds," Steve complained in between. "Get off me."

"No," Bucky said. "I’m staying here forever."

"On top of me?" Steve asked.

"Inside of you," Bucky purred, his brows twitching upward, rolling his hips even though it made his eyes cross.

Steve’s breath hitched and he punched him in the ribs, gentle but solid. “No. Absolutely not. Out and off.”

Bucky pretended to consider, narrowing his eyes. “Scale of one to ten.”

Steve stared at him, then flinched, biting his lips against a smile. “You ain’t serious.”

"That bad? What, five? Come on, that was at  _least_  a seven.”

Steve closed his eyes, letting the smile loose and sending Bucky’s stomach off in a series of cartwheels. “Mm. Nine.”

"You’re secretly a sweetheart," Bucky speculated, grinning, blushing a little himself.

"Not even a little bit," Steve denied. "Not even on Sundays." He thumped Bucky’s ribs again. "Up. We’re all sticky. And you’re makin’ me breakfast."

"Won’t be ready at least another twenty minutes," Bucky said slyly.

Steve frowned, and then he shook his head, shoving at Bucky with both hands. “Bucky,  _no._ ”


End file.
